Page 19 of Close By (Kari Blackhorse #1)

Kari heard the helicopters before she saw them—the mechanical thrum of rotors cutting through the desert air, hovering like predatory birds. As she rounded the final bend in the road, the scene unfolded with the grim predictability of a tragedy she’d been too late to prevent.

Four tribal police vehicles formed a loose perimeter around a small stone house set back from the main road.

Behind them, two unmarked FBI SUVs blocked the driveway.

Officers in tactical vests crouched behind open car doors, weapons drawn but lowered.

A police negotiator stood beside a vehicle with a bullhorn in hand, his voice carrying across the open space with mechanical distortion.

“Mr. Begay, please come out with your hands visible. We only want to talk. No one needs to get hurt today.”

Kari parked her Jeep at the edge of the growing circus, noting the local news van that had already arrived. A reporter she recognized from Flagstaff stood at a respectful distance, speaking urgently into a microphone while her cameraman captured the standoff.

Tsosie spotted her immediately, breaking away from a group of officers to intercept her before she could reach the command center Daniels had established.

“Thomas Begay,” Tsosie said without preamble, his voice low and tight. “Natoni’s cousin. Thirty-eight, traditional practitioner, teaches Navajo language and culture at the community college in Chinle.”

“What the hell is Daniels thinking?” Kari hissed, scanning the scene. “Thomas has no connection to the murders.”

“He does according to Daniels’s profile.

” Tsosie’s expression was carefully neutral, but Kari could read the tension in the set of his shoulders.

“Thomas was arrested two years ago after a physical altercation with a white tourist at Canyon de Chelly—specifically, near Spider Rock. The tourist was taking photographs of a ceremony.”

“That’s it? A fight from two years ago?” Kari couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice.

“There’s more. Thomas publicly confronted Harrington at a community meeting six months ago when the professor presented his research plan to the Tribal Council. Called him a grave robber in modern clothing.”

Kari spotted Daniels near the command vehicle, radio in hand, speaking intently to Captain Yazzie. “And Rachel Delgado? What’s his connection to her?”

“Thomas filed a formal complaint against Bright Sky Mining three weeks ago, claiming their operations were contaminating a sacred spring near his family’s traditional grazing lands.” Tsosie kept his voice low. “Delgado was building a case against the same company.”

“That’s a connection to the victim’s work, not to her murder,” Kari said, her frustration mounting. “And they’re both on the same side in that fight, so where’s the motive?”

“I know, and I agree.” Tsosie’s voice held the same frustrated tension.

“I tried to explain it to Daniels, but he sees a traditional Navajo male with documented confrontations against both a white academic studying sacred sites and a mining company encroaching on tribal land. To him, it’s a textbook profile match. ”

“How did we even get to this point?” Kari asked, watching as another officer took the bullhorn from the negotiator.

“When you were at Canyon State, Daniels found the complaint Thomas filed. He sent agents to ‘interview’ him, but they showed up with tactical gear visible in their vehicle. Thomas saw them approaching, recognized one of the agents from a previous federal case involving ceremonial eagle feathers, and locked himself inside.”

“Did he actually threaten them?”

Tsosie’s expression darkened. “The agents claim he shouted something about having a rifle and knowing how to use it. Thomas has a legal hunting rifle, registered. But once that statement hit the radio, everything escalated.”

Kari took in the scene again—the positioning of vehicles, the officers with hands nervously hovering near their weapons, the news helicopter now circling overhead. Standard containment protocol for an armed suspect, but excessive for what should have been a simple interview.

“Where’s Natoni?” she asked.

“Trying to get through the perimeter to talk to his cousin. Daniels won’t allow it—says family members complicate negotiations.”

The bullhorn crackled again: “Thomas, we have the house surrounded. Please come out peacefully so we can resolve this situation.”

No response came from the small house with its tightly drawn curtains.

“This is going to end badly if we don’t de-escalate,” Kari said, moving toward the command center with Tsosie at her side.

Daniels spotted their approach, his expression hardening into professional distance. There was no sign of the friendly “Uncle Paul” persona Kari had known for so many years.

“Blackhorse,” he said with a curt nod. “We have a volatile situation here.”

“Created by your agents approaching a suspect with overwhelming force for what should have been a routine interview,” Kari replied, keeping her voice even despite her anger.

“My agents approached appropriately for someone with Thomas Begay’s history of violence against whites,” Daniels countered. “His reaction confirms he has something to hide.”

“His reaction confirms he doesn’t trust federal agents,” Kari said. “Given the historical context, that’s hardly surprising.”

Captain Yazzie joined them, his weathered face grave. “Detective Blackhorse, you said you have information from this Dr. Redford?”

“Yes, sir. Information that strongly suggests our killer is not someone with a traditional Navajo background.” Kari held Yazzie’s gaze, ignoring Daniels. “The ceremonial elements were arranged incorrectly—there’s an absence of core concepts that no traditional practitioner would display.”

“Speculation,” Daniels said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Killers often personalize rituals, adding their own elements that might appear as ‘mistakes’ to outside observers.”

“Not these particular mistakes,” Kari insisted. “The directional alignments, the herb placements—they’re academically informed errors, not personal variations.”

“We can debate forensic anthropology after we have Begay in custody,” Daniels said, his tone final. “Right now, we have an armed suspect who matches our profile and has connections to both victims.”

“Tenuous connections at best,” Tsosie interjected. “And circumstantial evidence filtered through a profile that may not apply to this case.”

Daniels’s expression hardened further. “Are you questioning Bureau methodology, Detective?”

“I’m suggesting we consider alternative suspects before escalating a situation that could damage community relations for years,” Tsosie replied evenly.

The tension between them was interrupted by movement at the perimeter—Natoni Begay arguing with an officer who blocked his approach. His voice carried across the space between vehicles: “That is my cousin! Let me talk to him!”

Kari saw an opportunity. “Sir,” she said, addressing Captain Yazzie directly, “let me and Detective Tsosie approach with Natoni. Thomas knows us, and he knows we’re tribal police, not federal agents. We can resolve this without force.”

Yazzie considered this, clearly weighing jurisdiction and protocol against practical solutions.

“Absolutely not,” Daniels cut in. “Begay is potentially armed and has already made threats. This is now a federal operation.”

“On tribal land,” Kari reminded him. “Where Captain Yazzie has final authority unless formally superseded.”

The pointed reminder hung in the air between them. Daniels’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t contradict her—couldn’t, because she was technically correct.

Yazzie made his decision. “Detective Blackhorse, you and Tsosie approach with Natoni Begay. Unarmed, vests only. Your objective is peaceful surrender for questioning, not arrest. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Kari and Tsosie responded in unison.

“This is a mistake,” Daniels said, his voice low and intense. “If Begay is our killer, you’re putting your detectives at unnecessary risk.”

“If he’s your killer, Agent Daniels,” Yazzie replied with equal intensity, “then I want my people bringing him in—people who understand the community implications. And if he’s not your killer, I want to minimize the damage this operation has already caused.”

Without waiting for Daniels’s response, Yazzie walked to the perimeter and spoke briefly with the officer restraining Natoni. Kari and Tsosie followed, both removing their service weapons and handing them to another officer before donning the tactical vests Yazzie insisted upon.

Natoni’s face showed equal parts fear and anger. “What are they doing to my cousin? Thomas is a teacher, not a criminal.”

“We know,” Kari assured him. “That’s why we’re going to talk to him, bring him out safely.”

“These federal agents,” Natoni spat the words, “they come with guns to ask questions, then act surprised when people are afraid.”

“Focus, Natoni,” Tsosie said. “Does Thomas have a weapon inside?”

“A hunting rifle, that’s all. For deer, not people.” Natoni’s gaze moved between them. “He would never hurt anyone. The fight they keep talking about—that tourist was photographing a coming-of-age ceremony after being told not to. Thomas only pushed him away from the sacred space.”

Kari nodded her understanding. “What’s the best way to approach him now? He needs to come out peacefully so we can sort this out.”

“Let me call to him in Diné,” Natoni said. “No bullhorns, no English commands. Just his cousin speaking our language.”

Kari glanced at Tsosie, who nodded in agreement. “Let’s do it,” she said.

They approached the house slowly, positioning themselves where Thomas could see them clearly from the windows—Kari and Tsosie slightly behind Natoni, their empty hands visible, no weapons.